


Dame Commander

by blistry



Category: Star Wars, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: DameRey, F/M, JediPilot, Prompt Fic, antiquated speech, i guess, medievel au, not really a tagging afficionado, poe is a button pusher, rey is cranky
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 07:08:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13476312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blistry/pseuds/blistry
Summary: “Fifty crowns says that decrepit mare of yours drops dead of exhaustion before ever managing to outpace Pilot, here.” The prince’s horse nickered spiritedly.Sweetly, she pressed her forehead to Merlin’s pretty, dun snout. Closing her eyes, she smiled.“These silly men and their pride. Do they know not where it goeth?”--A fic for this prompt: Rey is a knight and Poe’s her prince. From: https://damerey-prompts-babe.tumblr.com/





	Dame Commander

**Author's Note:**

> thanks again to [https://damerey-prompts-babe.tumblr.com/] whose prompt burned a hole right into my brain so hello it's 3 am and here's a medievel au fic
> 
> poe is a prince and a continual lil shit, tsundeRey is his long suffering companion.
> 
> get ready for some stilted speech - hope it still reads fun!

She huffed, steam practically puffing out of her nostrils like she were a riled Spanish bull. By God, if Rey could help it, she never wanted to be in her armor after the sun set. That was when most _normal_ knights in the kingsguard were retiring, warming their feet by a fire in the cozy barracks.

Unfortunately for her, she was a sworn protector. A warrior trained from birth that vowed to be by her prince’s side, ever watching and vigilant.

Sworn protectors don’t get to have a nice fire or cozy barracks.

No, in fact, apparently, sworn protectors only get toil and botheration at ridiculous hours of the night.

“These twilight excursions are going to be the death of you, your Highness.”

“Dame Commander,” the prince said, in that infuriatingly assuasive voice of his, “your protestations arrive far too late, for we are already well on our way.”

Even with the carefree flop of his curls and his mischievous smile, he still had the bearing of a prince and substantial ambassadorial skills to boot. Somehow, he always managed to talk Rey into his foolish nocturnal escapades.

“Well, _you_ take far too many risks, your highness” she grouched, sliding her greatsword into its sheath. It settled in nicely and made a crisp _shnk_ sound which very much punctuated the knight’s own state of agitation.

“But you don’t even know where we’re going.”

“The vespers bell was struck hours ago so I’m quite sure it doesn’t matter. _It’s late_.”

The crown prince stopped his walk down the torch-lit stone corridor where she had followed him. Gracefully, he pivoted to face her. He cut a genteel figure in his fitted leather cuirass, his shoulders back, hands folded neatly behind him. The very first thing Dame Rey noticed, however, was that bedeviled smirk of his.

“How do you know we are not headed to the priory this very instant?” He asked, an impish shine to his eyes. “What if I seek to repent? What then?”

Rey pursed her lips and cocked her head, tartly.

“I fear there is little even the good and pious people at the priory could do for you.”

“Oft you chide me, dame knight.” He tutted thrice. “Isn’t it dishonorable to backtalk the prince?”

“Our enemies do not sleep. You ask me to risk everything,” she pressed, armor clinking and leather flexing as she stepped toward him. “It is my only desire to see you safe, my prince. I swore a binding oath.”

At her earnestness, the prince seemed to relent, biting his lip before sighing.

“Then you shall have your prince’s word that no harm shall come to us.” At that, he placed a comforting hand on her pauldron and raised the other in good will. Rey’s eyes darted down to his proffered hand and then back to meet his gaze. She still scowled, narrowing her eyes.

“My lady, you must take my hand this instant and forgive me,” he said softly. Good-naturedly. His voice barely echoed down the corridor and his smile- he smiled like he knew her every thought.

“I simply cannot bare to be the object of your ire, you know this. I much prefer your smile to your scowl.”

She was looking at him but she might as well have been staring into a noose. Without fail, the prince could always coax her into agreeance. No matter how the dutiful knight tried, she just couldn’t say no to her charge. It was something about the way he made her feel, like she was the only other person in the world when he was talking to her.

Hang everyone else, when he looked at her with those dark eyes. Hang the men of court. Emissaries and enemies. Hang manners, austerity, and pomposity, in particular. When it was just the two of them, like this, they were more than their titles. Rey wasn’t quite sure what that meant, exactly, but there could be no harm in enjoying it, if only for a little.

“We will only be gone an hour?” She asked, skeptical.

“Only an hour.”

Her eyes darted down to his hand once more. Then, with an expression that could only be described as a resigned pout, Rey looked away, taking his hand. It was warm and soft - not like hers. Her palms were calloused, her knuckles were scarred. Still, he gently squeezed her worn digits in his own with no discrimination.

“Are you well, dame knight?” He asked, eyes still sparkling. “Your complexion has gone quite roseate.”

She recoiled a little, tugging her hand back. With surprising speed, she resumed her march down the corridor to the wooden doors that lie at the end of it.

“You disturb my humors, your highness. I should think that is the cause,” she groused. His footfalls quickened to keep up with her.

“Dame knight!” His highness exclaimed. “You keep quite a pace for someone with such sensitive humors as yours!”

And the prince struggled to keep up with his sworn knight until they reached the stables, their intended destination. Where they were headed after that, was a mystery to Rey.

“Shall I summon your squire to prepare your horse?” Poe teased, pressing her buttons.

“Jest while you may. My squire will remain asleep in his bed. I’m the best horseman in the kingdom, afterall,” she stated matter-of-factly as she retrieved her saddle.

“Many have tried to unseat me from my rightful claim,” she cast a sharp glance and a clever smirk in her prince’s direction, “but all have failed. _Multiple times_.” She artfully saddled her horse with a muted _thump_.

“Then I think I know how we shall spend this evening. If at first you don’t succeed, after all,” the prince replied, patting the gleaming coat of his black gelding. “How can we make more sport of this? Perhaps a wager if you have the mettle?”

“A wager? Nay, perhaps we _should_ make for the priory. Your mortal soul is in peril, I fear.”

“Fifty crowns says that decrepit mare of yours drops dead of exhaustion before ever managing to outpace Pilot, here.” The prince’s horse nickered spiritedly.

Rey gasped, mouth agape, clearly deeply affronted by the slight against her tested warhorse.

“Come, Merlin,” she said, patting the muzzle of her horse and pinning Poe with a haughty look. “We shall buy you a bushel of apples and a new blanket with those crowns.”

Then, sweetly, she pressed her forehead to Merlin’s pretty, dun snout. Closing her eyes, she smiled.

“These silly men and their pride. Do they know not where it goeth?”

“Down Earl Berinon's trousers?”

“There but by the grace of God,” she shook her head, allowing herself to laugh at the coarse joke. “What poor manners you have, your highness.”

“You wound me,” he replied dramatically, tightening the straps on his horse.

“Aye. The man is all majesty but the mouth is ill-bred,” she gave him a crooked smile that wrinkled her nose a little.

“Another trip to the priory for me, would you say?” They both led their horses onto the muddy and well-trod path.

“I would. The need is dire.”

“Then that settles it,” Poe said, deftly swinging himself into his saddle. His great, black beast snorted and stomped. “The first to reach the clearing where the priory sits is the best horseman in the kingdom.”

“And fifty crowns the richer?” Rey corrected, seating herself astride Merlin.

“I hope all that armor doesn’t weigh poor Merlin down,” the young prince goaded, turning to look at his knight while his white horse stomped in circles, eager to dart into the foggy, moonlit night.

“And I hope that overly-large head of yours doesn’t collide with any low-hanging branches,” Rey shot back, kicking at her horse’s sides and sending Merlin bolting, leaving only upkicked mud and curling mist in their wake.


End file.
